Half Truths
by kiwipuppy
Summary: Dipper needs to be patched up, but the hospital will ask too many questions. This leaves few options. Takes place after the events of Sock Opera. No ships.


A/N: So, I wrote this shortly after Sock Opera aired, but I just only made an account on this site the other day. I originally wrote this because there was so much angst floating around. I intended for a cute fluffy story, but it sort of snowballed into whatever it is that this is...

If anyone wants me to stick any content warnings on here, please let me know!

(On tumblr - ectopuppy . tumblr post/98006992526/)

"Are you sure you changed your mind about going to the hospital, Dipper?" Mabel questions softly, as they walk towards the mystery shack. Dipper is still wearing the reverend outfit Bill had changed him into for the play. He's carrying his bundled up clothes with his right hand, and gingerly holding onto his hat with the other. Dipper sighs softly, and stares in the vague direction of the shack.

"They'll ask too many questions. Questions I can't answer properly," He says, shifting the bundle under his arm. He lowers his gaze to stare at a rock embedded in the earth at his feet."Besides, I'm pretty sure he didn't break anything."

"Well, we should at least ask Stan to look at you hand." Mabel replies. She'd been convinced Dipper was okay as they left the theatre, but now she could see the distinct purple and red bruises blossoming just bellow the hem of Dipper's shirt sleeve. Worry had sunk into her stomach as she watched Dipper cradle his arm in the car. A little pang of anxiety stung her with every small hiss of pain he made when the car jostled.

"No," Dipper whispers forcefully, eyeing the door Stan had disappeared through moments before. He spins on his heel to face his sister. Mabel's eyebrows shoot to her hairline, and she stops walking. She opens her mouth to protest, but Dipper cuts her off. "He can't know about this. The only reason Bill came after me in the first place was because of the laptop. He said I was too close to uncovering something. If Stan finds out about this, he'll know I broke my promise. He'll take the journal away!"

"This is serious Dipper!" Mabel counters, making sure not to raise her voice too high. Dipper is acting like a child. It doesn't matter how important that journal is, no book takes priority over him. "Besides, do you really think Stan wont notice you're hurt?"

"He sure didn't notice that I wasn't me all day!" Dipper retorts venomously. Mabel flinches at the words, and Dipper's face softens slightly. He looks like he wants to take back what he said, but he just stares intensely into Mabel's eyes. A silent, tense moment passes between them before Dipper looks away. He swallows hard, something he only does when he's frustrated or angry. Guilt is nagging at Mabel's heart. Dipper takes a deep breath. "Sorry, it's been a long day. I'm just... Tired."

"He'll notice." Mabel says, after an uneasy beat. She tries to sound confident, but a tremor runs through her voice. She can feel the question sitting at the back of her skull: _What if he doesn't? _She tries her best to shake it off. Of course he will. _Stan loves us. He wants to keep us safe. _She reminds herself. Dipper stares down at his hand for a couple seconds. He lowers it to his side and sighs deeply. Mabel has obviously made up her mind on the issue. Dipper knows from experience that he'll never be able argue his way out of this.

"Okay fine, but don't tell him about Bill." Dipper says quietly. Stan knowing about Bill seemed like a bad idea. Bill was dangerous, yes, but what could Stan do about it. Even if he did know about the weird goings on around town, he was still an old man. He couldn't hold his own up against Bill any better than they could. "I'll tell Stan it happened when we fell from the rafters." It seems like a believable enough story. Mabel thinks for a moment before slowly nodding.

"I don't think we should keep it from him," She adds after a beat. "But if you really don't want me to, I won't say anything. Besides, I don't even know what really happened." It's a subtle implication that dances in her eyes. _You can tell me anything. _Dipper pretends not to notice. It's obvious that whatever happened, he isn't ready to share. Mabel doesn't press Dipper on the details, but she hopes he'll tell her later. Once he's had some sleep and a little time to process.

Dipper smiles softly at Mabel, a silent _thank you _in his eyes. He's extremely glad to not have to share the days experiences quite yet. He's appreciative of Mabel's subdued demeanor, if a little worried about it. She's very obviously troubled if she's not acting like her bubbly, excitable self. She has a passionate look in her eyes that tells him she isn't dropping the matter entirely. Dipper thinks he is okay with that.

The two of them make their way to the shack and slip inside the door. Stan is standing in front of the open fridge as if contemplating what to eat. Dipper's eyes fall to the drawer to his Grunkle's right, it's slightly ajar. Dipper's hand twinges and his gaze drops to the floor instead. There's a small puddle of soda at Stan's feet. Dipper's stomach turns, and he touches his face covertly. He's surprised to find that it's not sticky, before remembering that Candy made Bill wash it off before putting stage makeup on him. Stan closes the fridge door without taking anything out, and turns to the twins.

"What got into you kids today," He questions, motioning for them to sit at the kitchen table. He takes his own seat before continuing. "I've never seen you two fight like that before. I mean an occasional fistfight between siblings isn't exactly unusual, but you've never gone at it like that before." He gives them an unreadable look. He doesn't seem disapproving, or angry. His voice doesn't even sound too concerned, but there's something in his eyes akin to worry. It's almost like he knows. Maybe he does. He hadn't seemed to know about the strangeness of the town, but he had. He always had.

"I was really tired," Dipper says blearily. It's not untrue. "Mabel took the journal without asking me, and I got angry. I didn't mean to ruin her play." Dipper lies easily, a sheepish tone sinking into his words. He tells himself that they aren't technically lies to begin with. Half truths at worst. Mabel makes a face, like she's upset.

"I told you I was using it." She argues, for effect. Dipper gives her a look. "Well, I guess I didn't exactly ask before taking it." She adds, shrinking slightly under his stare. Mabel always had been a good actress. "I think we're even after you wrecked my play. I worked really hard on it, even if Gabe turned out to be a bit of a creep." A smile finds it's way to Dipper's face, when he thinks about Gabe had kissed the puppets on his hands. He and Mabel are now both trying not to laugh.

"Well, it looks like you two got it worked out for yourselves." Stan says, eyeing their pinched grins and Mabel's shaking shoulders. Stan starts to get up from the table, and Mabel nudges Dipper's uninjured arm lightly. A dark look flashes over Dippers features, and Mabel looks pointedly between Dipper and Stan. He'd rather take another nosedive from the theater's rafters than do what he was about to do.

"Um, Grunkle Stan," Dipper says, softly, but firmly. Stan looks down at him from across the table. He says nothing, but doesn't make any attempt to move from where he is. "I hurt my arm when we fell at the show." Dipper presses on, the knot in his stomach pulling tighter. Stan looks at his long coat, and raises an eyebrow. Dipper takes the hint, and removes the coat before gingerly rolling up the sleeve of his dress shirt.

"Yikes, kid." Stan says, loudly, causing Dipper to start. There's a nervous moment as everyone in the room takes in the dark bruises on his wrist and hand, and the speckling of smaller bruises peeking out from beneath the sleeve. "Can you move your fingers?" Stan asks, looking from Dipper's hand to his face.

"Huh?" Dipper squeaks. Stan wiggles his own fingers, and Dipper nods. It takes a little effort, but he finds that he can indeed move them. He winces when the movement sends a sharp pain up his arm.

"Good," Stan says, with a small smile. His voice still sounds unconcerned, but Mabel thinks she sees relief sink into his features. He goes back to the fridge, absently noting the puddle at his feet, and rummages through the freezer for a minute. "If you can move your fingers I highly doubt anything is broken. Plus, it would be more swollen than that." He pulls out an ice pack, and walks back to the table. "Here kid." He says, handing the ice pack to Dipper. Up close he can make out a few small, crimson splotches on the hiked up sleeve of Dipper's shirt.

"Thanks," Dipper says, taking the pack. He presses it lightly on his hand, and hisses softly at the mixture of pain and cold. Mabel follows her Grunkle's gaze to Dipper's sleeve, and squeaks. "What?" Dipper asks, turning to face her.

"Your shirt's bloody." She replies, her voice at a slightly higher pitch than usual. Dipper looks down at the offending stains on the white fabric. He says nothing. He'd tried to forget the image of those forks sticking out of his arm.

"Why don't you go change into your regular clothes so we can take a better look at your arm?" Stan suggests, throwing a pointed look at the balled up clothes Dipper had placed on the table. There's a hard edge to his voice that tells Dipper that he has little choice in the matter. He removes the ice pack from his hand, and grabs his clothes. As he leaves the room he can hear Stan say something to Mabel that he can't quite make out.

In the bathroom Dipper removes the shirt, and cringes at his reflection in the mirror. He looks like he hasn't slept in a year, and his body is peppered with small cuts and scrapes. He has a few other bruises here and there, but his left arm is covered in them. His wrist is entirely covered in a mix of dark red and purple splotches. Several small, but deep punctures crusted over with dried blood are spread across his forearm. He leave the costume discarded on the bathroom floor, and changes as quickly as he can with one reliable hand.

When he comes back down to the kitchen, he places his hat on his head, and sits in the chair like he was never gone. Stan has gotten out a first aid kit in his absence and it sits on the table between them. Mabel picks at a loose thread on her sweater, looking a bit guilty. Dipper wonders if she told Stan what happened. He pushes the thought away as quickly as it comes. She said she wouldn't, and Mabel keeps her promises. She quietly excuses herself from the room, before getting up from her chair.

"So, what really happened?" Stan asks as he opens the first aid kit. Dipper makes an indignant sound at the back of his throat, and turns his head in the direction Mabel had scurried away. "Relax kid, your sister didn't rat you out. Her clamming up when I asked her what happened didn't help your case, but she didn't say anything."

"Then why-" Dipper begins only to be cut off.

"Holes in your arm; no holes in your shirt. If you'd gotten hurt when you said you did the shirt would be damaged too." Stan explains. He swipes a wet cloth across Dipper's arm to clean away the dry blood. Dipper swallows down a cry. "So, are you going to tell me what happened, or am I going to have to interrogate your sister?" Stan asks as he rummages around for disinfectant. Dipper can't tell if he's joking or not.

"I uh," Dipper starts, unsure what to say. Stan finds the disinfectant and opens the bottle. Dipper hisses loudly when Stan swipes the stingy liquid over his wounds. Wiping away the dried blood had opened them up again, and small dots of scarlet were beading on his forearm. "I don't want to talk about it." Dipper says, looking at the ground. Stan sticks a couple of bandages on his arm, and crouches to look him in the eyes.

"You know I'm not the enemy right," Stan asks in the kindest tone Dipper has ever heard him use. "If this was weird monster stuff, you can tell me. I don't want you and Mabel to feel like you have to keep hiding that from me." Dipper doesn't know what to say. His throat feels hot and constricted like he might start crying, but he wont let himself. Not in front of Stan, who's spent all summer trying to toughen him up. There's a long, uncomfortable moment while they stare at each other, neither wanting to be the first to look away.

"I just want to go to sleep." Dipper breathes, finally breaking eye contact. It's barely more than a whisper, and for a moment he worries Stan didn't hear him. Stan thinks about how tired Dipper had looked that morning. Remembers how Mabel had reprimanded him for not getting any sleep. He thinks about how Mabel had been so busy all day, and how, surely, Dipper had fought whatever had done this alone. That explained why Mabel looked so guilty when he had asked her what happened. She didn't know.


End file.
